


A Beginner's Guide to the Reckless Abandon

by gardakuka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gods can't help you now, Holiday season writing, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Post-Canon, tourney
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: Sansa's brothers decide to hold a tourney, where the highest prize is her hand in marriage. She needs to be married, she's almost seven and ten! Not that Sansa wants to get married, unless her marriage ceremony includes one particular man. Who can't even participate in that stupid tourney, there's no way he would come to Winterfell from that stupid Volantis in less than a month's time.Welp.When life gives you lemons, become a lemon tree.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I present you an utter crack which was partially inspired by my Secret Santa prompt, partially by some quite random things which were around me in November.  
> I know that it is a very questionably _crack_ , but hey, isn't the Christmas time the most perfect period to make yourself some hot chocolate, sit down near the fireplace (or the video of it), and post some stupid crack? x'D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prologue, in which Sansa faces a very unpleasant future

Sansa had a very bad feeling about that conversation Jon wanted to have with her. When she entered the solar and found out that all her siblings were sitting there, the feeling made itself comfortable in her chest and stomach.

“We need to talk, Sansa,” Jon announced with a smile. He was the only one in the solar who was smiling. Rickon was yawning, Bran was deep in his own thoughts, and Arya looked rather angry. Did Jon’s conversation have to be about her sister? Sansa had no idea, so she nodded.

It wasn’t about Arya, however.

“Look, but I thought you would like it!” the disappointment in Jon’s voice was palpable. “You used to like things like that, right? You know, all those tourneys, and knights, and songs about love.”

“ _ Used _ ,” Sansa almost spat that word. She tried to calm down, but it was quite hard to do when her cousin was sincerely confused about the fact she didn’t like the idea of the stupid  _ tourney _ .

She also knew that everything was already decided. She was just a young lady, she was six and ten now and had a brother who was a Lord of Winterfell. She was destined to the life every single lady in their world had. Nobody would listen to her wishes, especially if she would announce that there was no way for her to marry someone apart from her sworn shield.

None of her siblings wouldn’t take that easy. Sansa knew her sworn shield won’t be thrilled by the whole idea as well.

  
But the  _ tourney _ . In which of the Seven Hells did Jon manage to dig out that idea? 

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” Bran suddenly spoke. “But it needs to be done. The whole marriage thing, I mean.”

“Does it need to have a stupid  _ tourney _ ?” Sansa raised her eyebrows. She was a lady and she didn’t have a right to judge the decision of her brothers. Well, at least that stupid unspoken rules for the young ladies had never mentioned anything about nagging.

“We thought you would like it,” Jon sighed. “But now I see it was a mistake.”

“Then cancel it.”

“And what about your marriage?” her cousin retorted. “You are six and ten, Sansa. Our bannermen keep asking why you aren’t married yet. Or at least betrothed. We need to have someone in mind to cancel the whole thing, and as far as I’m aware, there’s no such a man.”

“We can’t cancel the tourney anyway,” Bran sighed and lowered his eyes. “Maester Ryman had already sent the ravens.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Sansa said.

Maybe she had to send a raven too. She knew her sworn shield was away to act like her brother’s  _ representative _ in that stupid Volantis, but maybe he would come back to protect her from the unwanted marriage.

Right. He could participate in that tourney, win it (Sansa was more than sure he would be able to unhorse every knight or lordling, he was the strongest and fiercest and most handsome man she ever met), and then declare that his victory was simply going to postpone Sansa’s marriage. Of course, if he wouldn’t like to wed Sansa himself.

Sansa would like that very much, but she didn’t want to force him into an unwanted marriage. She had no idea what exactly he felt for her. She was too craven to pluck up heart and talk to him about whatever he felt for her.

Maybe it was a sign she had to do so. After his return and a flawless victory in that stupid tourney, of course.

  
It was a nice plan. Sansa thought of what could happen if her sworn shield agreed to  _ wed  _ her and felt pleasing tingles down her spine.

“So,” she said when none of her siblings replied to her little  _ oh _ before. They all looked rather uncomfortable, even though Sansa knew that none of them would go and cancel the whole farce. “And when the said tourney is going to happen? I need to prepare myself for the thought of getting  _ betrothed _ , you know.”

She needed to leave the solar and prepare a letter for Sandor Clegane right now.

“In a month,” Arya grumbled and Sansa gaped and got cold feet even before her sister managed to finish her short sentence.

“But don’t worry, Sansa,” Jon said with a weak smile. “I promise, we will manage to make everything presentable in just a mere month. It will be a tourney everyone is going to remember for years. They might write some songs about it, too.”

It looked like he had completely misunderstood that horrified look on her face. Sansa was sure she looked horrified.

_ A month _ .

A month was not enough for her raven to find her sworn shield in Volantis and give him enough time to return to Winterfell. Well, it was it. It was the end.

Oh _no_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa faces her despair and decides to embrace her fate.

“Lady Sansa?” Ser Jaime’s voice dragged her down to earth. “You’re going to squeeze your cake with your fork now. You need to cut it, not squeeze.”

“Oh,” she flushed with shame and lowered her eyes. She had to be the perfect host for the guests of Winterfell, she was the older sister of the Lord. And here she was, ignoring Ser Jaime and Brienne and completely destroying her cake because of her stupid thoughts.

They weren’t stupid. But Sansa knew that in the eyes of the whole Westeros her unwillingness to be wed was just a mere whim of a little child. And she was a lady, so she had to  _ act  _ like a lady.

Lady Brienne looked at her with a sad smile and Sansa noticed there was compassion in her eyes.

“Lady Sansa,” she said and blushed. “Are you worried about the tourney?”

Sansa clicked her tongue. It looked like her desperation and rejection of the whole tourney thing was written all over her face. Too bad her siblings weren’t able to notice that.

Alright, she knew that Rickon was too young to get the whole point of Sansa’s behaviour. And Arya wasn’t happy about the decision of their cousin and Bran, but she didn’t say a word. Sansa couldn’t blame her. But she envied her anyway. Arya wasn’t the eldest Stark, who had way more  _ duties  _ than their younger siblings. And even if she were, Sansa knew that Arya would throw a tantrum and do everything possible for Jon and Bran to cancel the stupid tourney.

Too bad she wasn’t Arya.

“I am,” Sansa answered with a sigh. She knew it wasn’t a topic for a light conversation with her (alright, Arya’s) guests, but she had to say something in reply. And she really liked lady Brienne, it would be rude to ignore her question.

But lady Brienne managed to wed a man she wanted. And she was an heiress of her father’s lands. She was a future Lady of Tarth, and even then she managed to wed a man she wanted. Sansa decided she envied lady Brienne too.

“Let me guess,” Ser Jaime interjected with a smug grin. “Is it because you’re worried that some random lordling will win the tourney and claim your hand in marriage, robbing you of the chance to become a wife to a  _ certain someone _ you’d wish to see as your lord husband?”

“Why would you think so, Ser Jaime?” Sansa blurted. She was always acting like a proper lady, who was taught to hide all unnecessary emotions.

Sansa was sure nobody knew about any sort of  _ feelings  _ she had for her sworn shield. After all, none of her siblings was able to suspect anything. If they did, Jon wouldn’t organise the tourney for her hand in marriage, right?

But what if Jon noticed her behaviour and spoke to Sandor Clegane about it. And her sworn shield said he didn’t want to do anything with Sansa and her feelings. Sansa felt an unpleasant shiver running down her spine.

Why she had to be  _ that  _ stupid.

“I think so because I’ve lost my hand,” Jaime Lannister answered with a laugh. “Not my eyes.”

“This is rude,” Sansa muttered, but the man in front of her only laughed. “But you’re wrong, Ser Jaime. The reason for my concern is completely different.”

She had to try to play her role of a proper lady until the end. Even if Jaime Lannister will believe she is a  _ stupid  _ proper lady.

“Oh, really?” she saw a mischievous sparkle in her guest’s eyes. “Don’t be shy, lady Sansa. Tell us more.”

Sansa had no idea if he was mocking her or truly wanted to hear her story. She knew that lady Brienne wasn’t able to mock anyone, and she was sitting next to her husband and quietly listening to their little quarrel.

And Ser Jaime wasn’t a bad person, that Sansa learnt a while ago, when he and his future wife appeared at the gates of Winterfell with Arya by their side. And then Bran said that Ser Jaime will always be a welcomed guest in their castle, and Ser Jaime bowed his head with an unhidden shame in his eyes.

Sansa plucked up courage and sighed. She needed to talk about those stupid thoughts anyway.

“I don’t want to be wed,” she said, staring at the little cup on the table in front of her. “I mean, for now. And I never asked for that kind of a tourney. I’m not an empty-headed girl anymore, I have no idea where my brothers had found that idea. I know they want the best for me, but it’s such a big mess. And I don’t want any lordling or knight to win. And no one in Winterfell could help me.”

“What do you mean by  _ help _ ?” Brienne frowned.

“I wish my sworn shield were here,” Sansa said and felt her cheeks burning. She didn’t want her words to sound like that, not at all! “I mean, he is a fierce warrior, he could easily beat any man who would try their luck to get my hand in marriage.”

“So you truly want  _ Clegane  _ to win the tourney  _ for your hand in marriage _ ,” Ser Jaime looked at his wife with a mirth in his eyes. “Oh, but it looks like I’ve just won twenty dragons.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Sansa cried. Her face was on fire, but there was no way she could share her secret  _ like this _ . “I simply thought he could win it and declare to my siblings that he did it so I could postpone my marriage for some years. Nothing else.”

She knew her ears were turning red when she was lying. She could feel them burning right now.

“ _ Of course _ ,” Ser Jaime snorted. “But what if your plan would fail?”

“There’s no way it would fail,” now it was Sansa’s turn to snort. It was the most unladylike snort she ever heard. “Sandor Clegane is the strongest man in Westeros. That's what I know for sure.”

“I wasn’t talking about him yielding at the tourney,” Ser Jaime gave her a squinted look. “But about the possibility of your loyal sworn shield’s revolt. Imagine him winning a tourney, but instead of saving you from an unwanted marriage he would go to your brothers and ask for your hand? What would you do then?”

Sansa pictured the scene Jaime Lannister described and almost squealed in delight.

Oh, that was an unnecessary thing to do.

But the scene Ser Jaime described existed only in her (and, apparently, his) imagination.

There was no way it could happen.

“There’s no way it could happen, anyway,” she voiced her thought and felt her heart sink. “My sworn shield is too far away, which means there won’t be anyone to fight for me.”

She knew she sounded sad, but judging by the concern which appeared in the eyes of a couple in front of her, those were the saddest words they ever heard in their lives. 

“Lady Sansa,” Ser Jaime said with an unsure smile. “You know they call me a Three-Paw Lion, but even then I am considered one of the strongest warriors in Westeros. Maybe I should nominate myself to fight for you in this tourney? To delay the unwanted wedding of yours, of course.”

It was an absurd proposition, but Sansa knew Ser Jaime wasn’t mocking her. He sounded so sincere, and she couldn’t fight her smile.

“I don’t think my siblings will allow you to enter the tourney,” she said with a giggle. “After all, the prize is my hand, and you’re a  _ married _ man.”

There was nothing special in her words, but Brienne blushed anyway.

“Then I could enter that bloody tourney as a mysterious knight,” Ser Jaime chuckled. “You know, the audience always likes stuff like that: fair maidens, mysterious knights, some injuries of the weakest competitors. Imagine, how many stupid songs they will make about a mysterious knight who won the tourney in Winterfell and revealed himself as a crippled lion!”

“You aren’t crippled,” Brienne muttered, and Ser Jaime gently squeezed her hand. “Besides, everyone will know it is you under the helm and some unrecognisable armour because of your hand, anyway.”

“You’re right,” he sighed and turned back to Sansa. “I’m sorry, my lady, but it looks like there won’t be any majestic songs about this tourney in the feature.”

“It’s alright, Ser Jaime,” she said with a smile. She knew it didn’t reach her eyes, but Sansa didn’t want to be impolite. “I knew it was just a mere joke. And I think I should finally embrace the whole thing and just allow the tourney to happen. That’s it.”

At least she had some fun talking to Ser Jaime.

Sansa wanted to cry, but she had to be a lady grown. So she smiled once again and nodded to her guests.

“It will be fine,” she said. She had a strong need to say those words, maybe if she repeated them over and over again she would easily believe in anything she was saying.

And  _ then  _ she will finally accept her fate.

Brienne shook her head and sighed.

“I wished we could help you, lady Sansa,” she mumbled with a sad smile, and Sansa knew there was no one in Winterfell who could help her.


End file.
